


Two of the Lucky Ones

by Xavantina



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Car Sex, Childeon, Dry Humping, Fucked Up Relationships, Kinky Shit, M/M, Said car sex? They're covered in blood, Semi-erotic zombie killing, like seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2120448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xavantina/pseuds/Xavantina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Zombie AU ficlets originally posted on tumblr, all of them Childeon-centric.</p><p>Chilton lets Gideon out of his cell when the zombies come flooding in, mostly to save his own skin, but Gideon still takes it upon himself to protect Chilton from harm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Letting Gideon out of his cell was the hardest thing Chilton had ever done. His scar had ached with imagined pains while he stood in front of the bars, trying to hold Gideon’s gaze, trying to read something there. Gideon’s eyes were as cold and emotionless as they had always been, although the calculating glint that you often found there was still present.

From somewhere close by a scream had sounded. Chilton was out of options.

While he fiddled with the manual lock, Gideon had asked him, “What do you intend to gain from this, Frederick?”

“Has it occurred to you that I don’t want my patients to starve to death when the entire hospital is overrun by ravenous freaks?”

“Wrong answer, Frederick. I’m the only one you’re saving.”

The lock had beeped. The cell door had swung open. Chilton stepped back, suddenly horrified by what he’d done.

Then one of the orderlies, his white uniform soaked in blood, had appeared. His wild eyes had zoned in on Chilton, and he immediately took off running in his direction.

Chilton had scrabbled backwards helplessly, tripping over his own feet and falling to the floor with a loud cry. He was finished.

Only that’s when Gideon, calm as ever, had swooped out of his cell, bent down to receive Chilton’s cane from where he’d dropped it, and swung it in an elegant arch, hitting the orderly in the side of the head.

“You need to destroy the brain!” Chilton had screamed, but Gideon already had it under control, using the end of Chilton’s cane to stab the orderly through one of his eye sockets. The body twitched and then went still.

Gideon had turned to him then. There had been a light splattering of blood on his chest, and his expression was unreadable. He had walked over to Chilton, who tried not to flinch away, and extended his hand. Chilton had stared at it until Gideon curled his fingers in a ‘come on’ gesture. Gideon had pulled him to his feet with surprising care, and said, “If you expect me to get both of us out of here in one piece, I need more weapons than this.”

Chilton had nodded. “How about some medical equipment? You’ve proved yourself handy with that.”

Gideon had given him an evil smile. “True.”

As it turned out, Gideon could kill the infected with nothing but a scalpel, and he even made it look easy. Chilton had found his movements almost graceful.

Now, an hour later, they’re in Chilton’s car, on their way to Will’s house to meet up with the rest of the survivors, if there are any.

“I feel the need to confess something, Frederick.” Gideon is wiping blood, brain matter and bone fragments off of Chilton’s cane, with Chilton’s tie.

Chilton eyes him nervously. “What?”

Gideon looks at him, unexpectedly serious. “I didn’t expect you to save me. And I’m grateful. That’s why I saved you back there.”

“I figured as much,” Chilton says, swerving to avoid one of the infected that has stumbled onto the road. “Shit.”

“Assuming that your ‘friends’ don’t mind me joining your little group-…”

“Hannibal Lecter is a cannibalistic serial killer and they’ve accepted him.”

Gideon hums. “You’re collecting capable killers. Smart.”

Chilton laughs hysterically. “Yeah, sure, it’s a brilliant idea!”

“I was trying to tell you something, Frederick.”

“Out with it then.”

He almost jumps out of his skin when Gideon’s hand touches his shoulder. It’s the first time that Gideon has touched him since he cut him open, the first time he has touched him with no evil intent since before he killed the nurse, since back when they’d been… whatever they were when they weren’t patient and psychiatrist.

“I believe it is customary for someone to return the favor more than once, when they owe someone their life.”

“You tried to kill me once!”

Gideon huffs dismissively. “That was before the zombies.”

“Don’t call them zombies. This isn’t a horror movie. Until the Department of Health has named this virus, we should refer to them as-”

Gideon interrupts, rolling his eyes. “They’re zombies, Frederick, don’t get pretentious about it.” He pauses briefly. “If you want me to protect you, I will.”

Chilton takes his eyes off the road for a moment to look at the other man, a sociopathic killer who disemboweled him less than a year ago, a man who is currently covered in blood and gore but seems perfectly comfortable. “You will?”

“To the best of my abilities, which are not inconsiderable.” He lifts his right hand, and does the salute, “Scout’s honor.”

Letting Gideon out had been a gamble, Chilton is glad that he did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically Gideon wants to teach Chilton how to kill zombies, and that’s cause for a fic.

The zombie (governmental institutions had collapsed before coming up with a name for the infection, and during a discussion on the issue the only one protesting the word ‘zombie’, apart from Chilton, has been Dr. Lecter, so Chilton changed his mind) is trapped under a car that has been turned onto its side during an accident. It is definitely stuck. Despite that, it is desperately reaching out for them, clawing at the ground to get lose, its garbled grunts and moans causing healthy a knee-jerk reaction in Chilton: run. Run as fast as you can and don’t look back.

But when he takes a step back he bumps into Gideon’s chest, and Gideon most certainly isn’t moving.

“You need to learn how to do this, Frederick,” he says, “I won’t always be around to get you out of trouble.”

“Please don’t say that,” slips out before Chilton has a chance to stop himself.

“Awww,” Gideon croons. “I appreciate your faith in me, but we should be realistic.” He reaches down and grabs Chilton’s cane from his hand. “This has turned out to be a formidable weapon, and from a practical standpoint you should stick to it.” He steps around Chilton, admiring the silver handle. It is a bit scratched now, having been used to crack multiple skulls. “It’s a lot more durable than I would have imagined.”

“You think I would have bought some cheap, second-rate cane?” Chilton asks. 

Gideon gives him a smile. “Of course not, but I doubt they made it with murder in mind.”

“Fair point,” Chilton mutters, eyes fixed on the zombie.

“Take it,” Gideon tells him, holding out the cane in his direction. “Grab it down here, the handle is heavy and will provide momentum when you swing it.”

Chilton does as instructed, gripping the cane low on the shaft with both hands. “And?”

“And then it’s like golfing. Tout est dans le swing.”

“The swing?”

“The swing. Just pretend you’re going for 150 yards, straight.”

Gideon gestures for him to go kill that damned zombie already but there’s a slight complication regarding those instructions.

“I’ve never really… golfed.” It shouldn’t feel like such an embarrassing admission, but for some reason it is. Stereotypes and all that. 

Gideon is confused. “How have you not played golf? You’re a psychiatrist. While I question the logic in calling you people doctors, you still bear the title. I hated that damn game, but I didn’t exactly have a choice. Unless I wanted all my colleagues to ostracize me.”

Chilton gives him a side-eyed look. “You don’t strike me as the type to give into peer pressure, Abel.”

“This was before I went crazy, remember?” He smiles dangerously.

“Some psychiatrists would argue that you were crazy all along,” Chilton mutters and then quickly moves on. “I tried a couple of times, bought clubs and everything, but I was bad at it and the people at the golf club were terribly dull.”

The retort is prompt. “They didn’t like you, that’s what you’re saying.”

“Because I wasn’t prepared to pretend that they were all geniuses,” Chilton says haughtily.

“Of course,” Gideon agrees, his voice mockingly kind. “Poor Frederick. Even the snobs at the golf club didn’t appreciate you.” 

The ridicule is getting to him, something that Gideon obviously senses as well, because he abandons his teasing and moves out of Chilton’s field of vision (Chilton is not about to turn his back on that zombie, so he stays still).

Chilton freezes up completely when Gideon suddenly step up behind him, pressing his entire upper body firmly against Chilton’s back. “Now then,” he says calmly, like he isn’t invading Chilton’s personal space at all. “Broad stance.” He kicks Chilton’s legs apart quite suddenly, and Chilton would have stumbled if Gideon’s hands hadn’t appeared on his shoulders to steady him. They proceed to gradually slide down Chilton’s arms until they cover his hands where they are still clutching his cane. Gideon rests his chin on Chilton’s shoulder, and when he speaks, Chilton can feel his hot breath ghost over the side of his neck. He shudders and lets out a little moan. Gideon doesn’t comment. “Now, you’ll have to be able to do this quickly in the long run, but let’s start slowly. Bring it up lightly-” He guides Chilton into lifting the cane in a smooth arch. “And bring it down hard.” He lets Chilton control that move. The cane whizzes through the air as he swings it, and if anything had been in the way it certainly would have suffered severe damage.

They repeat the motion a few times before Gideon tells him to go smash the zombie’s skull in. As if sensing that Chilton’s fear might get the better of him, Gideon follows, and although he breaks full body contact, his hands move to rest on Chilton’s hips. “Try to kill it in one go. That’s always preferable.” 

Chilton nods shakily. The zombie is almost screaming now, so close to them. Chilton’s palms have gone sweaty, and if he doesn’t move soon, he might not be able to hold on to the cane. So he swings up and brings it down hard, like Gideon said.

He wasn’t prepared for shock that travels up his arms when the handle connects with the side of the zombie’s head. He almost drops his cane. The skull has cracked open, exposing grey brain matter and causing a gush of blood to pour out onto the asphalt. Chilton almost gags, but he keeps it together. The zombie isn’t moving anymore.

“One more for good measure,” Gideon says.

Chilton gives it one more for good measure. 

“Beautiful,” Gideon murmurs, stepping forward to resume physical contact. The moment he does, Chilton can feel his clothed erection press against his ass. Chilton lets out an involuntary whimper, automatically arching his back to rub himself against it. Gideon purrs, and then his lips are on Chilton’s neck, moving up towards his ear. “So beautiful,” he breathes, catching Chilton’s earlobe between his teeth.

It’s obscene. He just killed something and Gideon is turned on by that. He is holding a cane that is covered in bone fragments, brains and blood, and Gideon’s hand is sliding down his front, settling on his crotch, palming his cock, skilled fingers drawing out tiny gasps. Sometimes he almost forgets that the other man is a psychopathic killer but then Gideon has a habit of reminding him, in the worst (best) ways possible.

Despite his brain protesting, Chilton’s body most certainly is not. Adrenaline and all that. He is becoming hard alarmingly fast, trapped between Gideon’s hand on his dick and Gideon’s erection against his backside. They’re establishing a slow rhythm, rocking their bodies together like they have all the time in the world.

“Are you two gonna be done anytime soon?”

Chilton yelps, dropping his cane and trying to spin around to locate the source of the female voice. Unfortunately for him and his attempt at saving face and acting like nothing was happening, Gideon doesn’t let him go and they end up in what resembles a hug. For a split second their hips are close enough for their erections to touch, and Chilton can’t contain an unintentional moan.

Beverly Katz is standing dangerously close to them, hands on her hips and a smugly amused look on her face (hands on hips is actually hands by her guns – they’re always by her guns). “We’re moving out, if that’s all right with you.”

“Of course,” Chilton stutters, untangling himself from Gideon’s arms and bending down to retrieve his cane. He hopes his jeans will do something to hide how hard he is, but he doubts it. Still, he holds his head high and starts walking towards her and by extension their little convoy.

Just as he passes her, she says, “I’m with Dr. Gideon on this, I can’t believe someone like you has never played golf.”

Chilton flushes bright red, realizing how long she has been standing there, and how much she heard. There’s no way to explain his behavior, it must have been clear as day.

Miss Katz comes to his rescue, her face softening a bit as she pats his shoulder. “I don’t get it, but hey, if you trust him, go right ahead.”

“I don’t-” Chilton starts to say, but then he realizes that that isn’t true. It feels both awful and exhilarating to admit that to himself. “I… I think I do.”

“Good.” She looks over at Gideon. “But I don’t, and you’d best remember that.”

Gideon lifts up his hands in a sign of surrender. “How could I forget, Miss Katz?”

“And I will shoot you if you hurt anyone, Dr. Chilton here included.”

“Duly noted.”

Beverly Katz is one of those rare people that Chilton genuinely likes. If Gideon dies, he will definitely try to get her on his side instead.

Until then, he’ll stick with his old patient and see how many ways to kill zombies with a cane that the man can come up with.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is all about how the Zombie Apocalypse is actually like a giant road trip and no one wants to ride in the car with Abel Gideon.

Abandoning his car in Wolf Trap had been one of the hardest things Chilton has ever done. He knows that sounds pathetic, but he really loved that car. He’d had it for a long time, and he genuinely felt like it was a part of him (part of the self-image he wanted to project anyway).

However, it was woefully unsuited for driving half-way across the country during the total collapse of civilization, being a convertible with only two seats and having horrible gas-mileage.

At least Hannibal had been forced to leave his gas-guzzling Bentley as well, that brought Chilton some comfort. 

(Chilton feels pathetic about mourning the loss of his car because Will Graham has to leave behind all of his dogs, and Chilton knows how much they mean to him)

Will’s Volvo station car is a diesel with great mileage, and while the two Chevy Tahoes that the science team and Jack Crawford stole from the FBI on their way out don’t get impressive miles to the gallon, they are practical four-wheel SUVs with plenty of space for food and weapons. In the end those three were picked.

(They don’t plan on reaching some ‘safe haven’ or a refugee camp. They plan on finding a place in the wilderness somewhere east of the Rocky Mountains and hunkering down for as long as it takes for society to rebuild itself, or for the rest of their lives, if that’s the way it has to be)

The seating arrangements were decided very pragmatically, the goal being to optimize safety. Hannibal is in Will’s front seat with Jack in the back, a gun aimed at Hannibal’s head more often than not. Price, Zeller and Alana are in one SUV, Beverly, Gideon and Chilton in the other. This way a capable FBI agent is with one of their known serial killers at all times.

Not that it actually matters, Chilton thinks to himself as he drives through the woods somewhere north of Lexington. If Hannibal, or Gideon, were to decide that they wanted to kill them, they would succeed with little to no effort. Chilton assumes that everyone knows this.

Once Beverly discovers that something is going on between her two companions, her attitude towards Gideon changes from largely disinterested hostility to almost playful friendliness. The hostility still lurks underneath the surface, of course, but it mostly expresses itself in a curious protectiveness towards Chilton. It’s been a long time since Chilton had a friend, but if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Beverly Katz is one such.

She obviously finds the two of them, and their relationship, both intriguing and amusing, which is a nice change from the outrage and disgust Chilton saw on Alana Bloom’s face when Gideon, in an act of pure provocation, kissed Chilton in front of her a few nights before. 

She doesn’t understand it, and she tells Chilton as much (“He pulled out most of your organs. How do you forgive that?”) (“I don’t.”), but she is willing to accept it, and that’s more the Chilton would have expected from anyone.

Except Will Graham of course, who is definitely just one more brush with death away from falling into Dr. Lecter’s waiting arms. At least once that happens, Chilton will look almost sane by comparison. Almost.

“If I let you sit in the backseat while I drive, are you going to promise me that you won’t kill Frederick?”

(She’s on a first name basis with Chilton now, but she still insists on calling Gideon ‘Dr. Gideon’ in a slightly stilted tone, probably meant to gently mock him) 

“Do you trust my word, Miss Katz?”

“Of course I don’t. But I would appreciate it nonetheless.”

“In that case, I swear on my wife’s grave that no harm shall come to darling Frederick.”

So they set off like that five minutes later. It doesn’t take long for Chilton’s eyelids to grow heavy. He never sleeps at night when they make camp – never, not for a minute- he spends all night keeping watch with a rotating shift of the others. He is just too frightened to relax when he is out in the open, despite their various security measures. The only time he feels vaguely safe is when they’re driving.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he slowly wakes up to find himself draped across the seat with his head in Gideon’s lap. Gideon’s fingers are gently stroking his hair. Once in a while he drags his fingertips along Chilton’s scalp, his nails leaving a pleasant trail of sensation. Chilton sighs and allows himself to doze off again. Through the fog of almost-sleep he can still hear Gideon and Beverly talking.

“Why are you keeping him safe?”

“Guessing my personal motivations is something many people have attempted, with very little success, I might add.”

“That’s why I’m asking you instead.”

Gideon sighs. “He saved my life. He could have left me there to die.”

“Saved you for selfish reasons,” Beverly argues. “Because he couldn’t fight his way out of the hospital himself, he needed you.”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Gideon says, tugging some of Chilton’s hair behind his ear. “That he would trust me to help him.”

“Amazingly dangerous. Stupid, according to some.”

“According to most, I believe.”

In Chilton’s semi-conscious mind he imagines the Beverly must be smiling. “Yeah well, you’re not wrong. Can I ask you another question?”

“We’ve got time for it, don’t we?” His fingertips are at the nape of Chilton’s neck now, carefully caressing the sensitive skin. Chilton sighs happily.

“The two of you seem oddly intimate. You know, like you used to be… well, not mortal enemies, I guess.”

Gideon is quiet for some time. “You’re very perceptive, Miss Katz. I can see why Mr. Graham likes you.”

Chilton falls asleep then and dreams of back when he spent hours at a time with Gideon in his office - “private therapy” his schedule called it – taking apart his mind and then letting Gideon take apart his body with gentle, skilled hands, always putting him back together afterwards, right down to buttoning up his shirt and straightening his hair.

Yes, he would always put him together back then, but the last time he touched Chilton so intimately he literally tore him apart and left him for dead. It’s a bit difficult to forget that, even if Chilton’s body still sings with pleasure when Gideon touches his hair.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a violent death to make you sort out your priorities.

Hannibal Lecter is the first to die.

It comes as a shock to everyone. Hannibal was a very capable fighter, always moving gracefully through crowds of zombies and disposing of them with such elegance that it was almost beautiful to watch.

Chilton’s only explanation is that Lecter was used to fighting humans, and so he underestimated the zombies.

He was probably bit during a supply stop somewhere in Kansas. They don’t know for sure because he hides it for as long as possible, and they still don’t know what the incubation period is. But once the virus takes hold, once he starts sweating and turns feverish, there’s no doubt what happened.

Maybe he was ashamed that he’d gotten bit? That’s the kind version of events, the one Chilton rolls his eyes at. Lecter would have killed himself to spare himself the indignity of becoming a mindless, disgusting creature, if he didn’t have another agenda.

Option two is Chilton’s version: Lecter was hoping to hide his infection until he died, allowing him to come back and take all of them with him.

He knows Hannibal Lecter. The man is nothing if not vindictive.

Considering that they all knew what he was, his death has impacted them more than Chilton would have expected. It’s probably because he was the first of the group to be killed, reminding them of their mortality, and because Will still loved him, and almost everyone cares for Will.

Will, who is standing out in a nearby field, digging the grave that will become Hannibal Lecter’s final resting place.

(Hannibal didn’t die on his own; there was a discussion about whether to kill him then or wait until he had turned, a discussion Gideon ended by unexpectedly grabbing Beverly’s knife and crossing their temporary camp with confident strides. Lecter fought him, of course, but he was weak from the fever, slow and clumsy, and Gideon stabbed him in the heart, then the temple, and that was that.)

There’s lump in Chilton’s throat that he can’t get rid of, and he can’t turn away either, he just watches Will work while the sun sets behind him, trying not to look at the sleeping bag that lies on the ground, containing Lecter’s remains.

Someone appears next to him, someone who reeks of blood. Out of the corner of his eye, Chilton takes in Gideon’s appearance. He hasn’t changed his clothes, despite the fact that they’re soaked in Lecter’s blood. There’s blood on his hands, blood on his face, so much blood.

“It could have been you,” Chilton says. He realizes now why he feels like mourning Lecter’s death. It hits too close to home.

“Miss Katz expressed a similar sentiment. As I told her, I am not as reckless in my approach to fighting as he was. He was too confident. I believe that was a general fault of his.”

Chilton snorts humorlessly. “It could have been you, Abel.”

Gideon stays silent for a long time while they watch Will working. “I know,” he says eventually. “I am acutely aware of my own mortality.”

“Right now, at least.”

“And you?”

“I’m acutely aware of your mortality too, as well as my own.” He turns to face the other man. “Can we…?”

“Miss Katz suggested the SUV.”

Chilton surprises himself by being the one who closes the distance between them, practically leaping into Gideon’s arms with no second thoughts. Gideon kisses him like a starved man, or perhaps just a man who thinks he is going to die at any moment. Chilton submits to it, parting his lips when Gideon’s tongue presses against them, moaning wantonly while Gideon cups the back of his neck to keep him from pulling away. Not that he would, not in a million years.

Gideon tastes like blood, sweat and dirt, and it’s all Chilton ever wanted.

They don’t attempt to sneak off to the car, there’s no point, and Chilton is too lightheaded to mind the judgmental glances they get.

Gideon slips into the backseat and Chilton crawls into his lap, slamming the door behind them. Their mouths meet again in a messy kiss that is equal parts teeth and tongue, both of them breathing heavily already. Chilton is dimly aware that the blood on Gideon’s clothes – Hannibal’s blood – is still wet and is soaking into his own shirt, but he doesn’t care. He pulls at them until his hands find naked skin, dragging his fingers through the crimson stickiness that covers Gideon’s chest.

Equally unconcerned, Gideon starts opening Chilton’s jeans, growling “I’m going to fuck you until you scream so loud they’ll think I’m killing you” into their kiss.

Chilton breaks their kiss to moan out loud, looking into Gideon’s eyes with quiet desperation. “We can’t, we…” he gasps as Gideon manages to pull out his cock, giving it a few strokes to bring him to full hardness. “We don’t have any lube.”

“About that…” Gideon fumbles into his pocket and pulls out a small tube of a no-name brand lubricant.

“Where did you get that?” Chilton asks.

“Do you care?”

Chilton responds by kissing him again. It’s clumsy and desperate because he tries to crawl off Gideon’s lap to get his jeans and underwear off, and eventually he has to pull away when Gideon snickers against his lips. “Shut up,” he mutters, shuffling around until he is naked from the waist down. He opens Gideon’s pants and unceremoniously pulls them down and leaves them around his thighs, exposing his already hard cock. He missed this, seeing how much Gideon is turned on by him, how hard he gets before Chilton has even touched him. Normally he would suck him off, take his dick into his mouth and tease him at first, until Gideon cracks and fuck’s his mouth until Chilton’s jaw is sore and his eyes are wet. But not tonight.

Tonight he crawls back into Gideon’s lap, pulls him into another searing kiss and then whispers, “Then fuck me. God, please, fuck me.”

Gideon wastes no time slicking up his fingers, moving his hand behind Chilton’s balls and pushing a single fingers inside.

It’s been so long, too long, and Chilton is tighter than he’d expected, but the feeling is absolutely amazing. When Gideon adds another finger he groans, dropping his weight forward to rest against Gideon’s chest and press his face into his neck. He can smell Hannibal’s blood on Gideon’s skin, but instead of pulling away he licks it off, the metallic taste on his tongue not disgusting him like it should.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers, mon chéri.”

Terms of endearment were always Chilton’s downfall and he does as instructed, rocking downwards to impale himself on Gideon’s fingers. He starts out smooth and steady, but when a third digit is added his rhythm grows more erratic, as does his moans and whimpers. The sounds bounce around the enclosed space, mixed with the slick sounds of Gideon’s fingers sliding in and out of Chilton’s ass. It sounds so dirty and Chilton can’t help but love it. His fingertips are digging into Gideon’s upper arms as he tries to steady himself so he can move in a way to make Gideon’s fingers hit his prostate, but Gideon won’t let him.

“Oh fucking hell,” he hisses when Gideon gives him a fourth finger. “Please just fuck me, please.”

“Are you going to ride my cock just as nicely as you’re doing with my fingers?” Gideon teases, his free hand finding Chilton painfully hard erection and pumping it in time with Chilton’s movements, which immediately speed up.

“Yes, yes, I will,” Chilton replies, nodding frantically while the words come pouring out. “I’ll do anything you want, Abel, please.”

A look crosses Gideon’s face, something like tenderness flashes in his eyes. “All right, Frederick.”

He pulls out his fingers and lines his dick up to Chilton’s hole, letting him sink down as fast as he wants. Chilton rests for a minute once he has fully impaled himself on Gideon’s length, catching his breath. Then he starts to move, setting a fast pace from the start, crying out when he manages to find an angle that has Gideon’s cock hitting his prostate. Bracing himself against Gideon’s shoulder with one hand, he brings the other up to cover his own mouth, trying to muffle the noises that are spilling out behind his palm.

Gideon immediately reaches for his wrist and pulls the hand away. “Uh-uh, Frederick,” he says, his voice only slightly strained. “You promised, anything I wanted. Didn’t you?”

Chilton nods automatically, whining when Gideon’s hands grab a hold of his hips and force him to slow down. “Yes, I promised, I promised.”

“And I believe I said I wanted you to scream for me, didn’t I?” He punctuated by planting his feet on the floor for leverage and thrusting up into Chilton, hard.

A small shout slips out before Chilton has a chance to stifle it, and the dam finally breaks. They establish a brutal rhythm, Chilton dropping down while Gideon slams up into him, over and over again. Chilton throws his head back, desperate moans and cries spilling freely from his lips now. Gideon leans forward to lick and bite at the other man’s neck.

“Vous êtes très belle comme ceci,” he murmurs, words sliding off his tongue like sweet poison. “I want to fuck you like this until the world ends.”

That might be sooner rather than later, Chilton thinks.

He is so high-strung, so sensitive and overwhelmed that when Gideon curls slippery fingers around his dick and starts stroking it in honest, it’s all Chilton can do not to start crying with relief. He touches the blood on Gideon’s chest again, sees it stick to his fingertip and leave trails across Gideon’s sweaty skin, leans down to kiss him and comes with a long groan, shuddering in the other man’s arms and spilling come onto Gideon’s bloodied clothes. Once he is finished riding out his orgasm, Gideon’s returns both hands to his hips and guides him up and down a few times in rapid succession before his hips snap up and he climaxes as well, moaning with satisfaction.

They sit there huddled for a little while afterwards, Gideon still inside Chilton’s body, both of them covered in blood and come. Chilton doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to leave the car ever again, doesn’t want to have to face the world outside their personal refuge.

“We have to move, Frederick,” Gideon says eventually, ignoring Chilton’s whine of protest when he pulls out of him. Chilton can feel his come run down his inner thigh and drip onto the seat. The whole care smells like blood and sex. No one is going to want to set foot in this SUV again.

“How are we going to clean up?” Chilton asks.

As if the gods are listening, the door opposite from them opens slightly, making Chilton jump. A towel and a couple of water bottles are thrown inside and Beverly’s voice shouts “you’re welcome!” before the door slams shut again.

Chilton, mortified, looks to Gideon, who is smiling slightly. It dawns on him. “She gave you the lube, didn’t she?”

“Miss Katz is a very special person,” Gideon replies.

Chilton snorts, crawling out of Gideon’s lap on shaky knees and fetching the water. “She sure is.”

They clean up as well as they can and get dressed, which is easy enough for Gideon, but not for Chilton. When they finally exit the car and join the camp after one last kiss, they find that everyone is pointedly ignoring them, except Beverly, of course, who gives Chilton a saucy wink that makes his cheek burn.

And Will Graham. He still has dirt on him, and he watches Chilton’s face for a long time before finally saying, “Good for you, Frederick.”

It’s a weird blessing to receive, but a blessing nonetheless. Chilton accepts it with a tiny nod, and when they sit around to eat their dinner of canned food and bottled water, he allows himself the comfort of sitting so close to Gideon that their thighs touch.


End file.
